


forbidding death, he kissed the light

by mindelan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindelan/pseuds/mindelan
Summary: Jyn breaks rules but none of her own. Her most recent one? You can’t fall in love with your partner.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	forbidding death, he kissed the light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wintersend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersend/gifts).



> hi sissi! im your rebelcaptain secret santa!! i was so excited to see your prompt and truly had a blast writing this for you this past month! i added in some of your favorite tropes as well so i hope you enjoy<3
> 
> the premise is slightly similar to that of firebrand (as in jyn is working to clear her criminal record) but that's pretty much it. I've completely made up the bureau and all its rules. I've never been a spy so i don't know /how/ accurate it is but shh it's an alternate universe ;)
> 
> prompt: rule number one: you can't fall in love with your partner.
> 
> title from "jupiter" by james mcalister, nico muhly, bryce sessner, sufjan stevens

_The Bureau of Data Management and Control, Rule #27: Mission briefings are of the highest importance and should be treated as such. Failure to properly understand operation parameters can lead to suspension, serious injury, and/or death._

Jyn Erso breaks rules. 

If she doesn’t agree with one, she doesn’t follow it. Simple as that. 

But the rules she makes for herself, the ones she lives by – those never get broken. Her code keeps her alive. Always bring a gun to a knife fight, don’t trust too easily, and never let someone get close, or else it’ll hurt all the more when they eventually leave. 

Jyn’s not an idiot – she knows Cassian Andor is a beautiful man. She isn’t blind. If she wasn’t worried about doing anything that might jeopardize her position here, she already would have propositioned him and gotten this itch out of her bones but she can’t risk it. One more mission with the Bureau and her contract will be complete – her criminal record will be wiped and she’ll no longer have to worry about being tossed back into Wobani. 

She won’t let her unfairly pretty partner distract her from the end goal, even if he _is_ tempting. She’s lived so long with the shadow of her past hanging over her, heavy and oppressive. Though she’ll never truly live without constantly looking over her shoulder or sleeping with one eye open, she’s so close to freedom she can pretty much taste it. 

“–you think, Jyn?”

Jyn blinks, shaking her head slightly. She loosens her grip on the paper she’d been holding, placing it down on the table and smoothing out the crinkled edges absently. Despite staring at it for the past few minutes, she hadn’t absorbed anything on the page. “Hm?” 

“About the job.” Cassian leans forward and taps the file sitting in front of her. “What do you think of it?” 

She huffs out a breath, setting down the report and slouching back in her chair. After taking a moment to glance over a few bullet points, she says mildly, “I think I must have done something to really piss Draven off.” 

He chuckles, the sound washing over her in a warm wave. The corner of her lips twitches upwards unconsciously. “I doubt you’ve annoyed him any more than usual.” 

“You’re not bothered by this?” 

Cassian shrugs. Even though she knows him better than most, it’s still so damn difficult to read him. “Not my place to question orders.” 

Ever the obedient soldier, the loyal spy, the exact opposite of her. Had she not been on a contract, she would have marched right up to Draven and demanded why he wanted the two of them to make a simple information trade-off. It’s basic shit, way below Cassian’s pay grade, something any new recruit fresh out of the academy could do blindfolded. 

“At least there’s no chance we’ll fuck it up,” she says finally. 

“And then you’re done.” 

She hums in agreement, watching his face. The smile on his face is one she _can_ see through – it’s how he placates marks, how he makes people believe he’s on their side. It’s been a long time since she’s been on the receiving end of it and it’s so foreign that it makes her skin crawl. She looks away. When he’s got his spy face on, he isn’t _her_ Cassian.

_(When did she start thinking of him as hers?)_

Abruptly, she stands up. She can’t bear to be in this meeting room with just him anymore if he’s going to look at her like that – she needs air and open space. “What time are we meeting the informant?” 

“This afternoon.” It’s morning now so they have a few hours to prepare; she should probably go over the pre-mission briefing before they do. As easy as it is, she really can’t afford to mess up this one – Draven would probably send her back to Wobani out of spite if she did. 

But just as she turns to leave, he reaches out and stops her with a gentle hand. “We could stop at that burger place you like,” he offers up, almost hesitantly, like he thinks she’ll turn him down. Gone is the blank mask and in its place, the real Cassian Andor shines through, the one she’s gotten to know over the past few weeks as she’s worked to break his walls down. “One last time.” 

“Yeah?” At his nod, she grins, a real one this time. Her chest aches, her heart threatening to break through her rib cage and burst from her chest. “Only if you’re paying.” 

“As if you’d ever let me do otherwise.” 

Jyn breaks rules but none of her own. Her most recent one? You can’t fall in love with your partner. 

* * *

_The Bureau of Data Management and Control, Rule #32: When on the job, the mission environment should be strictly professional. Each task needs to be completed with the utmost sincerity._

Vanilla milkshakes are her favorite. Just the right amount of sugar to appease her sweet tooth without being too much. Sitting in the passenger seat of Cassian’s car, she sips it quietly, some pop song playing softly from the radio. She feels. . .settled. It’s one of those moments where everything is aligned perfectly, nothing at odds with each other. Calm. _Safe,_ despite the circumstances. 

Cassian’s hand enters her line of sight, palm outstretched. “Give me some.” 

She rolls her eyes, red straw slipping out of her mouth. “Gross.” 

“Come on, we had a deal.” 

His mock-disappointment has the corner of her lips turning upwards despite her best efforts to suppress it. Unfortunately for her, he’s telling the truth – in exchange for him paying for her meal and buying her a large milkshake, she has to share with him. A tragedy, truly. 

“Tyrant.” 

Still, she hands the cup over without too much protest. Swapping spit and all that doesn’t really bother her, not when she’s kissed him for missions and gone undercover as his wife. They’ve crossed so many boundaries already that sharing a straw with him barely registers as anything at all. 

Resting the back of her head against the cool glass of the windowpane, she turns her face slightly to watch him. The light from the afternoon sun coming through the windshield hits his profile just right, his dark hair and skin glowing with an orange and yellow hue. And while she rationally knows she’s seen more attractive men, at this moment she has forgotten all of them. 

(It’s like – well, Jyn has never been the best at history – but he’s like one of those medieval paintings she remembers from her old textbooks. Not perfect but human.)

“You’re staring,” he says dryly, _her_ milkshake still in hand.

“Just making sure you aren’t drinking more than you’re supposed to.” 

“I paid nearly five dollars for this!” His eyes widen in mock-incredulousness. “If anything, I should get most of it.” 

That’s enough of that. With a mischievous half-smirk, she leans over the divider between the two front seats and swipes it from his hands. 

_“Ay,_ Jyn!” 

“You’re the one who offered to buy me lunch,” she shoots back, not feeling bad in the slightest. She peers through the semi-opaque lid, trying to gauge how much he’d taken and what’s left for her. “I was sur–” 

“There’s our guy,” Cassian cuts her off, suddenly all business now that the man had appeared at the drop sight. The car’s parked a few blocks away, hidden from him but near enough that they can see him through the window. 

Jyn glances at the clock – three-oh-two. “He’s early.” 

“Not necessarily a bad thing,” he says, even though they both know how unpredictable a nervous target could be. “But be on your guard. We’ll leave and meet him at the agreed time.” 

She nods, leaning back in the passenger seat and kicking her legs up on the dashboard. Almost immediately, Cassian says, “Off.” 

“My boots aren’t _that_ dirty.” Not a lie. 

“I’ll take my milkshake back if you don’t.” 

_“My_ milkshake,” she grumbles, but the threat is enough that she acquiesces, settling back with her feet firmly on the floor this time. She’s not even upset – the easy banter between them has her chest warming pleasantly, a light feeling that just won’t go away as if it’s emerging from deep inside of her, buried away for a long time – 

(She’s not breaking a rule if she doesn’t admit it to herself.)

To distract herself from the conflicting feelings warring in her mind, she slides her sunglasses off of the top of her head and onto her eyes, observing the informant as she slurps down the rest of _her_ milkshake. The man wipes his hands on his pants, head on a swivel as if he’s looking for something or someone. Looks like this might not be a simple drop after all. 

“You got any intel on this guy?” It’s probably in the report she hadn’t read. 

“Not much. Reese Bredvin, forty-five. Married with two kids. We did a background check on him, nothing incriminating.” 

“Hmm.” Jyn hums, drumming her fingers on her knee. “First time?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s something off about this. Even though she knows rationally that Reese isn’t a seasoned field agent and is probably nervous about being an informant, her gut tells her otherwise. There’s not much she can do, however, without concrete proof that this is going to go sideways. She just has to be on her guard to keep the two of them safe. 

When the clock turns to three-fifteen, Cassian pulls the keys out of the ignition, shutting off the car. They get out at the same time; he locks his car while Jyn tosses her empty cup in a nearby trash can. She looks up to see him waiting on her and at his nod, the two of them set off silently towards the drop site. 

She trails Cassian as he approaches Reese, moving with the crowd of people around them. He often takes point on these operations whereas her job is often looking tough and scanning the area for threats. It’s a no-nonsense trade-off, straight out of a spy movie – Reese will pass Cassian his briefcase without looking at him and continue walking as if nothing had happened. 

Except that doesn’t happen. 

Reese keeps walking right past them, holding onto the case as he does so. Cassian continues on as well, nothing in his posture suggesting that anything went wrong. It’s only when he reaches back to tug her into a nearby alleyway that she properly sees his confusion. 

Hell, she’s just as lost as he is. This has _never_ happened to them – the bureau usually does a good job vetting possible informants beforehand. She doesn’t know the protocol for a situation like this one. “What now?” 

Rubbing at his forehead and closing his eyes briefly, Cassian replies, “We go back the way we came and see if we can run into him again.” 

“And if we don’t?” 

“There’s no point in chasing him down,” he says. “If we can’t find him, we go back to base and tell Draven what happened.” 

She frowns but nods her head anyway. This morning, she’d been so confident that this would be an easy job; now, with the possibility of it going unfinished or failing completely looming over them, she feels unsure, off-balance. 

Cassian must see it because he reaches out a hand and gently clasps her shoulder. His touch burns through her clothes and sears onto her skin. “No matter what happens, this won’t change anything.” 

_How can he possibly know that?_ She questions desperately. Her freedom is in reach – she’s so close she can almost taste it and to have that ripped away. . .

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he adds firmly, gaze holding hers. 

Jyn blinks, her heart skipping a beat, chest strangely warm and tingling. While she hates when people think they need to look after her, that she needs protection, she finds Cassian’s words to be comforting rather than irritating. She blinks again, then swallows, looks away, and nods. Her gratitude is lodged in her throat, so instead, she says thickly, “We should get going.” 

(She doesn’t break her rules. She hasn’t broken one yet.)

As the two of them leave the alleyway and head back in the other direction, she bumps her shoulder against Cassian’s arm. Her voice is low, muttered. “I won’t let anything happen to you either.” 

He turns toward her as they walk, raising a brow. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

She scowls. “I take it back, then.” 

There’s a half-smile on his lips and he opens his mouth to respond when he’s bumped back by an unfamiliar man walking in the opposite direction. Cassian moves to step around him with practiced ease but the man turns, stepping behind Cassian, uncomfortably close. Jyn frowns but keeps walking, albeit at a bit faster of a pace now, knowing that Cassian will catch up–

They both tense at the _click_ of a gun as the safety is turned off, the sound all too familiar to people in their line of work.

“Walk,” the man growls. He’s taller than Cassian, wearing gloves and a stereotypical ski mask to cover his face. Cassian holds his hands at his side, clearly visible. His face is blank but she can see the gears moving in his brain. “Back to the alleyway you just came out of. _Now.”_

Instinctively, Jyn takes a step forward but is yanked back by someone else. The cold metal of the barrel of a gun presses hard against her back, bruising fingers curling around her upper arm as she’s pushed to walk behind Cassian. 

She can take someone down before they fire the gun aimed at her– she’s done it before without issue. The number of variables in the current situation, however, makes it more difficult. The two guns, two men, her, Cassian, all of the people ebbing and flowing around them – if she twists, she should be able to step on her captor’s instep, incapacitate him quickly before Cassian’s guard notices, then she could lunge forward and gr–

The man jams the gun against her back, having seemingly read her mind, making her stiffen and stumble forward slightly at the force. “Keep moving.” 

A glance from the man behind Cassian, a slight tilt of his head. She can barely see his eyes underneath his mask but she gets the sense that he somehow understands the type of person that she is all from looking at her, sharp, observant, unsettling. It makes her skin crawl. “So long as this one remains relatively intact,” he shakes Cassian with his free hand, “the boss doesn’t care what happens to her.” 

Before she can even do anything except tense her muscles and prepare to lunge, a sharp pain explodes in her head. All she remembers as it goes dark is Cassian desperately, painfully shouting her name.

_“Jyn!”_

* * *

_The Bureau of Data Management and Control, Rule #84: When captured, focus on escape. If the rest of your team is there with you, they’ll have a better chance of survival if you call for back-up._

Jyn emerges from the darkness abruptly, gasping for breath. 

Her eyes fly open immediately but it takes her a few seconds to start getting used to the darkness. She goes to reach up to her face but her arms don’t move; it’s now that she feels the rigidness of a chair against her legs and back, the coarse rope tying her hands and ankles down. Her breath hitches in her lungs, panic quickly seeping into her brain. All too quickly she’s back in the police station, the cold metal of handcuffs biting down against her skin, too tight too tight no escape – 

She tilts her head back, throat bared and breathes in deeply through her nose. In and out, in and out. It takes a few minutes before she can fully shake the panic from her bones, one thought pulling her from the depths. 

_Cassian_. Where is he? What happened to him after she went down?

Despite the pain in her skull, the memory plays over and over in her head. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she sees that she’s in the room all alone. Four walls, a ceiling, a single door. The chair that she sits in is in the middle of the room, with no other decor in the room. It reminds her all too much of a prison cell but she doesn’t dwell on that thought, not wanting it to drag her back under like it had before. 

Experimentally, she tugs at her bonds. They’re tight, but as she begins to strain and pull her wrists, the ropes start to loosen. She won’t, however, be able to break free without hurting herself. There’s not enough give for that – if she wants to slip out her hands, she’ll have to dislocate her thumb to make her hand small enough. 

Shit. It’ll hurt but it’s nothing she hasn’t done before. 

After she’s worked the bindings to the point where there isn’t anymore give, she maneuvers her right hand and thumb into position. The longer she hesitates, the longer it’ll take her to go through with it. Bracing herself, she jams her thumb forcefully; she swears silently as it pops, the sharp bite of pain making white spots appear at the back of her eyelids before it fades back to darkness. With a grunt, she slides her hand out of the rope and gets to work untying the rest of her body. 

It’s difficult to untie knots with one hand, even more so with her thumb out of commission. But she’s always had nimble fingers, and though it takes longer than she would have liked, she manages to get everything undone. When she stands from the chair, she sways on her feet, slightly dizzy from the blow to the back of her head. But once that wears off, she strides forward and yanks on the door to her cell like a woman possessed. 

It opens easily and without sound. She slips out and shuts it silently, turning back as she does it. A storage room – not the first one she’s been tied up in and likely not the last. She’s on the second floor of a large, open warehouse; there are two other rooms on the same floor and a single flight of stairs that lead into the main room. Sticking to the shadows, she crouches up near the railing and peers over to the ground below. 

Now that she can properly examine her surroundings, it’s not difficult to find Cassian. It’s a bit brighter in the main room than where she’d been previously, and she can make out his position in the middle of the floor. He, too, is tied to a chair. A woman stands in front of him, arms crossed, dressed in black; her face is almost completely obscured. There’s something about her, however, that tugs at Jyn’s memories, a familiarity about her that’s sitting on the tip of her tongue. 

There are only a few guards scattered throughout the small space, looking more like a ragtag crew than a professional gang of kidnappers. If she’s quiet enough, she should be able to take them out silently without alerting Cassian and then woman. 

“If you don’t talk, then I’ll go pay your pretty little girlfriend a visit,” the woman croons, circling Cassian’s chair. She drags a finger across his shoulders, his back. “It’s a shame that I even have to do this, Joreth. Or should I call you Cassian?” 

_Shit._

Jyn’s eyes widen at the admission of his name. She doubts this woman is a figure from his personal life – to have him bound at her mercy speaks more of revenge than anything else. Former Bureau business, then. Maybe some other job gone wrong. Whatever’s going on, it can’t be good.

She can barely see him in the dim lighting and yet still strains to catalog his each and every injury. She doesn’t know how long they’ve been apart or the time she’d spent unconscious in the storage room. He doesn’t look too worse for wear, but she can’t see anything on his dark clothes. 

“There is clearly some misunderstanding here,” Cassian replies lowly. The strain in his voice tells her that there’s something wrong that she can’t see. “Mara, I don’t know what you’re ta–” 

Mara’s eyes flash, cutting him up with a growl, _“Stop lying!”_

It’s clear that the other woman is quick to anger, frustrated with Cassian’s constant denials, even when it’s clear that his cover has been blown. He’s a damn good spy, unbreakable even in the harshest of conditions. The current circumstances pale in comparison – the woman’s interrogation tactics are clearly unpracticed. Crude torture and physical pain might get the best of a lesser agent but not of Cassian. 

Slowly, Jyn starts shuffling to the stairs, keeping low so she won’t be seen. Her head throbs in time with her thumb as she moves. It’s difficult not to vault over the railing and tackle Mara to the floor, but she has learned a few things about subtlety during her time with the Bureau. She can’t risk anything until she’s sure that Cassian is safe. 

“You know,” Mara breathes, moving back in front of him. “I can look past how you tossed me aside after a week. I’ve been fucked over by enough men that it barely bothers me anymore. But you know what _really_ pisses me off, Cassian?” She leans forward in his personal space, hands braced on the arms of the chair, a curtain of hair falling past her shoulders between them. “What really pisses me off is how you tricked me. And not just me – you tricked _everyone_ with your little mind games. I don’t take too kindly to that.” 

She sucks in a sharp breath before she can stop herself; at the other woman’s speech, the memory of Mara finally clicks in her mind. Jyn and Cassian had gotten back from a long-term undercover mission a month or so ago; she’d played a servant in a wealthy Imperial home whereas Cassian had reprised his role of Joreth Sward. Jyn has never met Mara Veness, the daughter of a high-ranking General, officially, only seeing the other woman in passing a handful of times. It’s clear, however, that Cassian’s playboy alter-ego had made an impression during the two weeks they’d spent infiltrating and collecting information. 

What’s concerning is that Mara knows his real name, that she’d been tricked. The Bureau’s files are air-tight, accessible only to those with the highest clearance and the best hackers. Unless Mara is some sort of splicing genius, then there must be some sort of leak. Cassian would _never_ let something so significant to his true identity slip into casual conversation. 

Her chest tightens. Despite Mara’s clear inexperience and lack of a visible threat, they’re treading in an unpredictable environment. Something bigger than this event is clearly at play. There’s too many variables, too many unknowns – and Jyn’s never liked being in the dark. 

The closest guard is standing near the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing. As she approaches, she sees a knife clipped on one side of his belt and a gun on the other. A gun would be easier but a knife is quieter, and the best chance to get Cassian out unharmed is with stealth. She eyes the guard's clothing – body armor, a bulletproof vest, a helmet with a strap under the chin, but no garrote. 

Perfect.

Once she’s close enough behind him, she reaches forward with a shaky hand and slips the knife free; even injured, her fingers are light as she lifts it, then without hesitation, she straightens and slits his throat, her other hand over his mouth to muffle his gasping breaths. The guard goes limp in her arms and she eases him to the ground. She waits for a beat to see if anyone has heard and when it’s evident that the coast is clear, she drags the body out of sight underneath the stairs. 

Now that she’s got a weapon, taking out the rest of the guards is easy. She sinks back into her training effortlessly, rhythmically, unable to focus on anything except doing whatever it takes to get Cassian out. A blink later and she’s done, her chest rising and falling quickly, too much blood on her hands and clothes. Not hers. It’ll all rinse off in the shower but remain on her hands nonetheless. 

“I don’t _have_ to be this nice, you know. You certainly weren’t very nice after we were together a few weeks ago – maybe I’ll take a page out of your book. Now that I think about it, it would only be fair. . “ 

She prowls around the boundary of the room, once, twice, all while keeping an ear to Mara and Cassian’s one-sided conversation. Though she can’t be sure that she’s got each guard in the entire warehouse complex, she checks and double-checks that she’s cleared the room of threats. With the exception of Mara, there are no other men posted inside.

It’s just the three of them now. 

Silently, she stalks to a better vantage point, one where she can see both Mara and Cassian at an angle. Crouching, she wipes the blood threatening to drip down her face with the back of her wrist. In her other hand, she clutches her knife with a white-knuckled grip as if it’ll disappear if she grips it with any less force. 

It’s a matter of timing. Though she’s taken out a significant chunk of Mara’s back-up, she can’t risk Cassian’s safety by rushing into things. Had she been alone, she wouldn’t have hesitated. Had it only been her life on the line, she would have done whatever reckless and dangerous act to get out, half-alive, barely there. 

Her rules are to protect herself, physically and mentally. Falling in love with a partner would mean putting both her heart and body on the line, vulnerable and exposed to pain. Falling in love with Cas–

“You’ve really left me no choice, Cassian. I don’t want to do this to you but you just won’t talk!” 

A glint of silver draws her from her thoughts, catching the dim lighting of the warehouse. A knife. Muscles tensed, she rises up from her crouch with panther-like grace, dangerous and teeth bared, ready for more blood. 

And then Mara brings the knife down to Cassian’s abdomen, pierces his skin, hot red blood blossoming out and – and – and –

And then Jyn snaps. 

All thoughts of a rational, reasonable plan fly out of her head. _Saw must be rolling in his grave._ But the only thing she can see is someone hurting Cassian right after she’d told him she would protect him – 

She doesn’t even remember getting to Mara, just that she’s suddenly on top of the other woman, bringing her knife down again and again and again, warm hot blood spraying and she – she just stabs and stabs and then – then a groan of pain and she – 

_Cassian._

Jyn tosses away her weapon without another thought, leaving Mara behind as she lunges for Cassian, still in the chair, still has a wound in his gut. As she works to untie the knots, she chants over and over again, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” 

(Had she been of a clearer mind, she would have noticed that he’d almost freed himself, bindings loosened almost to the point of escape.)

Once she gets him fully untied, he slumps in her arms and she eases him to the ground. Her hands hover over his gut before she presses down hard, vision blurring as tears begin to pool in her eyes. He wheezes at the pressure, blood trickling out of his mouth.

“Jyn–” he manages weakly, his eyes fluttering open and shut. She’s never seen him like this, so pallid and corpse-like, barely holding onto life. “Jyn, I–” 

“Don’t waste your breath,” she orders, her voice stronger than she feels, holding him together, blood pooling around her fingers. “Don’t – don’t die before – _you keep your eyes open, Andor, I swear!”_

But even though she’s practically begging him, begging any and every god in the universe to save him but no one listens and Cassian’s eyes slip closed and she – she. . .

“Don’t die before I can tell you that I–” she shakes her head, closing her mouth tightly. No, she’ll tell him herself. She’ll save him and tell him in person because there’s no way she’s letting him die on her watch. 

(She makes it a rule so she won’t break it: Cassian Andor is not allowed to die.)

* * *

_The Bureau of Data Management and Control, Rule #105: Should an agent be seriously injured in the line of duty, only those with level six security clearance and higher are given access to medical records until the threat of danger has passed._

“Your contract is done.” 

Jyn’s head shoots up from where it had been resting against her fists, the ache in her neck speaking to just how long she’d sat in vigil over Cassian’s prone body. Blearily, she looks up at Draven standing in the doorway of Cassian’s hospital room, vision obscured by the thick pair of sunglasses she’s wearing to counter her concussion. If she didn’t know better, then she would say there’s an amused glint in his eyes as Draven examines her – He doesn’t even seem to care that she’s not supposed to be in here. 

“So?” She doesn’t tack on sir at the end. She doesn’t care about formalities, not anymore – her body aches too damn much to give a fuck about small things like that. Not wanting to be too out of it, she’d only taken half of the medication her doctor had given her. Heavy painkillers make her fuzzy so she’d chosen only to take the edge off the cutting pain in her head. 

“So you don’t have to sit around and wait for Andor to get up,” Draven replies dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your record is cleared, Erso.” 

Even though she doesn’t have to be here _contractually_ , she’s not leaving. Her freedom doesn’t even register with her, not when her partner lies lifeless in front of her. It’s a hollow victory. “You going to kick me out?” 

The trip to the hospital had been a blur. She barely remembers getting Cassian out of the warehouse and once outside, they’d been swarmed with a Bureau team sent to track them down. She’d fought and kicked her way into the same ambulance as Cassian, not letting the medics treat her until he’d been wheeled away in a gurney and she was left behind in the waiting room. 

She paced for a few hours while waiting for news before giving up in impatience. She’d then forced the desk receptionist to give her his room number, snuck up to the floor, picked the lock on his door, then took up her position next to his bed. 

Draven huffs out an imperceivable breath. “No, I’m not going to kick you out.” 

“Good.” He’d have to drag her out using force.

“How is he?” he jerks his chin slightly towards Cassian. 

“What, can’t access his medical records yourself?” she retorts. After a beat, she adds quietly, “Doctors say he should pull through, but it was touch and go for a while there.” 

Draven drums his fingers against his arm for a minute as he looks at Cassian. Barely there emotion flits over his face before he looks away, clenching his jaw. “I trust he’s in good hands?” 

Jyn’s eyebrows fly up before she can stop them, mouth dropping slightly before she remembers herself. Never before has Draven even _indicated_ that he believed her to be half-way capable. “He is.” 

Draven nods stiffly then turns toward the door. Before he exits the room, he pauses, looks back at her. “You clearly care for him, even if you are. . .” he pauses, “ah, reckless and insubordinate.” 

That strikes her dumb, wide-eyed like a fish out of water. She considers herself quite unflappable but this is the second time in the past minute that Draven’s had the upper hand in the conversation. “. . .Thanks?” 

“If you were interested to continue your work with the Bureau as a paid agent, I would not be entirely. . .opposed.” The face he makes looks as if he’d swallowed a lemon. “There is a lot of work left to do.” 

“After all this,” she flaps her hand around the room, at Cassian, at the results of their failed mission. Her movements are jerky and slightly manic, “you’re offering me a _job?”_

“It was Mothma that suggested it,” he replies sourly, not looking too happy at the notion. “I. . .agreed.” 

Her throat dries up as she swallows. She narrows her brows, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. 

“Think about it,” he says after a beat. “I have a meeting I need to get to, but when I come back later to check on Agent Andor, we can talk specifics if you’re interested.” 

Her, an agent? She shakes her head incredulously at the thought, angling her body back toward Cassian as Draven leaves the room. All she’s ever been is a criminal – she works _against_ the law, not for it. The concept of working for the Bureau willingly and not under a written obligation is strange and unfamiliar. . .but not entirely unwelcome or impossible. 

Her plans for life after the Bureau are practically nonexistent – he’d been so focused on gaining her freedom that she hadn’t thought much about the future. She wants to go back to school and get her degree, work a few part-time jobs to get herself there. And then. . .get a full-time position? It sounds plausible in her head but she knows reality isn’t often that kind. Even with her background wiped, she has little to no experience in practical skills. 

She doesn’t know how long she sits there before a low groan pulls her out of her thoughts. She jerks up, head protesting the sudden, sharp movement sending a bolt of agony across her skull. But she doesn’t care, not when Cassian’s eyes slowly crack open, wary and defensive, cloudy with the combination of pain and drugs. 

“Hey, hey, easy,” she soothes, reaching out immediately when he struggles to sit up, clearly not recognizing his surroundings. His bare arm is warm underneath her fingertips and she unconsciously leans closer. “It’s me, Jyn. You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.” 

After a few seconds, he meets her gaze and then relaxes, heart rate monitor slowing to a steady beat. His eyes flick to her and then around the room. His throat works oddly as he tries to speak. “–Water?” 

“Yeah, yeah, course,” she says hurriedly, standing to get the pitcher on the table next to his bed and pouring him some. She brings the styrofoam cup up to his lips, reaching behind his head to help support his neck as he drinks. 

Just as he finishes, a nurse bustles into the room. Jyn startles, moving away from him like a guilty teenager caught in the act. She settles back down in the chair at his side as the woman checks his vitals and changes his IV bag, exclaiming all the while how remarkable it is that he’s already awake and coherent. 

Once it’s just the two of them again, she asks quietly, “You want more water?” 

“No, I. . .I’m good,” he rasps, eyes closing as exhaustion takes its toll, sinking into his bones and weighing him down to the bed. “You all right?” 

Jyn pauses, then snorts, shaking her head. He’s the one lying in a hospital bed, a few hours out of surgery, and he has the audacity to ask after her? “I’m not the one who got _stabbed.”_

He frowns. “What about your head?” 

“Mild concussion,” she brushes him off quickly. It’s a bit more severe than that but she doesn’t want to worry him now. Besides, she has no doubt that he’ll be able to access her medical records once he feels better – he can read it for himself. 

“Shit,” he replies anyway, reaching up a hand and rubbing at his face. His posture is tense, agitated. She’s just about to ask if he wants her to call a nurse when he grits out, “I’ll make sure Draven upholds his end of the bargain, even though this mission was a fucking–” 

“Cassian,” she interrupts with a breathy laugh, shaking her head and stopping him in his tracks. “Draven was just here. My record’s been cleared - I’m free.” 

He looks at her with stars in his eyes, sheer relief tugging his shoulders down. “Good. You deserve it.” 

The sentiment makes her cheeks warm, heart-clenching. A half-smile breaks onto her face. Despite the failures, she’s worked hard for this outcome. “I do.” 

And she wouldn’t have been able to do it without Cassian’s help, either. Unable to properly tell him that verbally, she reaches across the space between them and gently squeezes his hand. By the expression on his face, it’s clear he gets the message. 

When she moves to pull away, he doesn’t let her, turning his palm upward and interlocking their fingers. The tips of his ears are pink and he won’t look her in the eye. “Earlier. . .you said I couldn’t die until you told me something.” 

She blinks. “What?” 

“I heard you when I was bleeding out,” he clarifies.

Tamping down on her embarrassment as if she could force the red from her face, she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Jyn,” he entreats, gazing at her in a way that breaks down all of her barriers, crumbles all of her walls. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to but. . .” 

“It’s nothing,” she insists.

He pauses. It’s silent in the room except for the humming of machines. Out of the blue, Cassian says, “When you went down,” he swallows. “When they. . . _hit_ you in the head, I was so scared you wouldn’t ever get back up.” 

Then you came out of nowhere like some sort of avenging angel,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “And when I was dying. . .it was comforting that you were there. That your face was the last thing I was going to see.” 

Jyn sucks in a breath, eyes widening. 

_Fuck it._

Time to break a rule. 

“I didn’t want you to die before I could tell you that I. . .care about you,” she mutters. Their hands are still intertwined and she firmly looks at that spot on the bed, unable to do anything more. “And – in time – I think I could. . .” 

Her words hang in the air for a few seconds and she’s unable to see his reaction. She’s just about to reach up and take them back when he opens his mouth. 

“Jyn,” Cassian says softly. The tone of his voice makes her head jerk up, finally meeting his gaze. “Once I’m cleared to leave, can I take you out for burgers and milkshakes?” 

She smiles – really, truly smiles, hard enough that her eyes crinkle and her cheeks ache. Her heart beats so loudly in her chest that she can hear it, reminding her that she’s here, that she’s alive. “Only if you’re paying.” 

* * *

Later, when she tells Cassian that he’s the exception to the rules she won’t break, he laughs.

At her frown, he explains to her that if she’d actually read the Bureau’s handbook, she would know that it’s against regulation to get into a relationship with someone in the same department, let alone with one’s _partner._ If she’d looked over the tiny font and fine print, she would have realized that her latest rule matched up almost exactly with the Bureau’s guidelines. 

It cancels out then, she decides, leaning in to kiss Cassian with a smile on her lips. And even if it technically counts as a broken rule, she doesn't mind much – not when the outcome is this good.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays, sissi! hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> find me on tumblr at [vanderlinde](https://vanderlinde.tumblr.com/)!


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